


Motivational

by Corker



Series: Randy Rogues [5]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Bondage, F/M, Masturbation, Multi, Sex Toys, Sexual Fantasy, Spanking, Teasing, Wax
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-30 23:49:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corker/pseuds/Corker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leliana offers to teach Zevran how to pick locks using 'secret bardic methods' to motivate him.  After five nights of frustration, they reunite with Kallian Tabris in Orzammar for the final exam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Prelude**

“You lied about being able to pick locks, you know.”

“A man will say a great many things, Leliana, if they might earn him his life.” Zevran shrugged. “So I exaggerated my credentials in that direction. You are a fine lockpick and cutpurse both, and our dear Warden certainly seems to know her way around a locked chest.”

Leliana bit the corner of her lip, looking the assassin over. “I could teach you, if you liked.”

Her seductively lowered tone caught his attention, one pale eyebrow arching with interest. “Oh? This I must hear.”

“I’ve asked the Warden what secrets are in those tomes she studies, and she said that mostly, they contain techniques to motivate and focus learning.”

He chuckled. “And you think you have some idea as to what would motivate and focus me, yes?”

“I don’t _think_ , Zevran, I _know._ ” She said with just enough certainty that he’d certainly take it as a challenge.

“Far be it from me to discourage your budding career as an instructor, then. Come! Tell me, how do I pick a lock, Leliana?”

“With lockpicks, of course,” she answered with a smirk. “I can’t very well teach you while we’re walking, Zevran. After we’ve made camp for the night, come to my tent for your first lesson.”

“Oh ho, to your tent? Perhaps there is something to this motivational approach after all!”

**Night One**

“I have to do this one-handed? And with no instruction? This hardly seems fair, dear bard.” 

“It’s a very simple lock, Zevran,” Leliana assured him, clicking the hasp home. The lock joined two ends of a leather strap that secured the elf’s left hand to his right foot as he sat cross-legged at one end of her tent. For good measure, she’d threaded a small rope through the binding and leashed him to one of the tent pegs just on the other side of the door flaps. He was going to _stay_ at that end of the tent until he got the lock undone. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. The question is whether or not you’ll figure it out _in time._ ”

“In time? Now what is meant by that? In the morning, you will pack up and go, abandoning me here?” His tone was joking - that wasn’t a real possibility - but the question was real enough.

“Here’s a lantern,” she set it close enough that he’d have light to work by, but not so close that he might knock it over while focused on the lock. “And here’s your lockpicks. You _might_ want to hold one in your mouth, but I really don’t think it should be necessary.”

“You are avoiding my question, vixen,” he said with pursed lips. “What shall I make of that, mm?”

Leliana slid down to the other end of the tent, looking back at Zevran over her shoulder. “I’m getting to it,” she chided him. “ _This_ is your motivation.” She sat up, turning back towards him as she did so, and took the hem of her tunic in both hands. She paused with feigned shyness, then grinned wickedly and stripped it off in one smooth movement.

“A worthy prize indeed,” Zevran murmured appreciatively. This would not be the first time they’d “knocked boots,” as Zevran put it - that started aboard the _Sea Siren_ , and continued when Kallian had invited the bard to join her and Zevran in their tent. But the elf was nothing if not grateful when beautiful people were offering him physical delights, regardless of prior history.

“You’d best get to work if you want to claim it,” Leliana said, running a hand through her short red hair and enjoying the fall of the silky tresses. “The offer dies a little death when I do. And you’ll have to wait until tomorrow night for another chance.”

“Ah, you are devious indeed, my dear. Yes, I can feel my _motivation_ growing already.” Zevran smiled widely and nodded. “I go to work, then.” Tucking the his lantern-side hair behind one pointed ear, so that it did not block his light, the assassin inserted one of the thin metal probes into the lock and began to fish around, trying to get a sense for how the thing might work.

“Mmmm,” Leliana sighed a bit louder than was really necessary as she slid the backs of her fingers down the outside of her breasts, then brought her hands together to cup them. “You like these, don’t you, Zevran?”

He did not look up. “I assure you, my dear, I like it all. I am working now.”

“One of the benefits of human ladies, I should think,” Leliana mused, sliding both hands up and arching slightly into them. “Mm! These full, soft, warm breasts. I wish you were touching them now.”

That earned her a quick glance, but he put his attention right back to the lock. “I wish it as well, so please, let me get back to -- “

“You have such clever hands,” she went on, voice thick with admiration. “You rub like this - “ Fingers splayed open, she ran her hands from the inside of each breast to the outside, each finger catching the nipple in turn, sending little jolts of pleasure through her. “Ooo... then squeeze like this - “ She cupped them again and lifted gently, fingers and thumbs undulating in a light massage. She caught amber eyes watching her again and smiled, excited by the effect of her display. “Uhm. It’s so nice, but it’s not nearly enough.”

“Yes, well.” He blinked and consciously turned his head back toward the lock. “That’s good for me, yes?”

“As if I can be waiting around all night for you to undo that!” she scoffed. “If you won’t come over here, I suppose I’ll just have to help myself. Mmm, oh!” Taking both nipples between thumbs and forefingers, she rolled them back and forth. It felt good, although perhaps not so good as to warrant her arched back and thrown back head. “Oh, this is better. I do miss a quick, hot mouth, though. I wonder if I can...” Straightening, she pressed one breast upward and bent her head down, extending her delicate pink tongue toward the nipple. She could _just_ barely touch it, she already knew, and the sensation wasn’t really worth the gymnastics - but the expression on Zevran’s face was. “They’re _so big_ , I think I can... ah! Oh, yes! Mm!” She lapped at it a few times before lowering it with a sigh. “Ohhh,” she nearly growled with disappointment, “it’s not nearly as good as when you do it.”

He actually leaned forward until the tether brought him up short. “Then just come down to this end of the tent, dear lady, and I’ll be happy to - “

“Oh, I can’t do that!” she said with mock surprise. Then she did, coming just close enough to tap him on the nose. “It would ruin your motivation.”

“I assure you, I am _extremely_ motivated.” Zevran’s voice was pitched low, and the intensity of his heavy-lidded gaze was electric. It was part of the Game, making men and women want you, and she was obviously succeeding. _That_ was thrilling. “You are a most excellent teacher, indeed. I would, ah, like to show my appreciation, in fact.”

“Mm, I’d like that,” she breathed, hovering just out of his reach. “As soon as you show me what you’ve learned.” She pulled back abruptly, leaving him swearing “ _Brasca!_ ” under his breath.

“In the meanwhile... I think these have got to go.” She undid the points on her hose, sliding each leg off with elaborate slowness. “In Orlais, I used to have _silk_ hose. They were so elegant and soft, and vibrantly colored. Beautiful and sensual.”

“Mm, yes.” Zevran took the fashion talk as an opportunity to get back to the lock. “We had many silks in Antiva as well. Silk and leather.”

“That’s right. You like leather,” she mused. “Maybe later in the week, if you still haven’t learned how to open the lock, there will be leather... Should I wear it?” she asked playfully, sliding her hands up her bare legs. 

“You wear leather every day, Leliana,” Zevran said steadily. She thought she saw the lockpick quivering in his hand, but in the unsteady lamplight, who could say?

“You know what I mean,” she said slyly. “Not armor. _Soft_ leather, like your Antivan doehide, worn tight across the body like a second skin.”

“Now where...” His voice hitched and he coughed to try and cover it. “Where would you find that, hm? You are toying with me.”

“Who knows what Bodahn Feddic has in his cart, yes? Perhaps I will find something there. Or perhaps I won’t wear it. Maybe I should get a nice, wide belt...” 

The lockpick dropped to the canvas floor and Zevran swore again. “A vote for yes, then?” she asked, settling back on one elbow and opening her thighs. The motion caught his attention briefly, and then he was back at the lock, poking it with savage intensity. “Don’t snap the pick off in there,” she cautioned, before relaxing back into her performance persona. “A good belt, yes. Mm, I haven’t played those games in a while,” she said with a throaty chuckle. She reached her free hand down between her legs. “But it seems I like the idea. Can you see how wet I am, Zevran?”

Her only response was a frustrated grunt as the elf desperately tried to jimmy the lock.

“So wet, thinking about it... I think I’ll put you over a crate, ass up, mm yes, that’s good,” she sighed, starting to rub herself as she watched his increasingly frantic efforts. “And I’ll use a good lock to keep you there for a long, looong time while I warm your fine golden bottom. Mm, oh, oh! Perhaps the belt is too much for as many strokes as I would like to give you... You... you’d _like_ that, wouldn’t you, Zeh-- Zeh-- oh! Mm, that was fast... I’m... uh, almost...”

“ _Brasca!_ ” She could hear the leather _creak_ as he pulled suddenly against the restraint, apparently trying to just _tear_ the lock free.

That put her right over the edge. “Ohhhh!” Leliana’s hips bucked up and stayed up for a long moment as the climax washed over and through her. Her hand finally slowed and stopped, and she dropped elegantly back to earth. “Mm,” she sighed happily. “Yes, I think we’ll _both_ like that. But not tonight. Time’s up!”

His shoulders sagged in disbelief. “You are serious? After... _that_ , now you will turn me out into the cold, dark night? Surely you are not so cruel!”

“I’m an Orlesian bard,” she smiled into his face and, taking the lockpick from unresisting fingers, had it open in two heartbeats with hardly a glance at it. She giggled. “This isn’t even close to cruel.”

She unhooked the hasp of the lock from the leather and, once Zevran disentangled himself from the strap, tossed the lock to him. He caught it easily. “So you can practice tomorrow. Or tonight, even, if you... you know, have trouble getting to sleep?” she said coyly. “And we’ll see if you do better tomorrow night.”

“You may count on it,” the Antivan swore, collecting the lockpicks and exiting with a definite purpose.


	2. Chapter 2

**Night Two**

Zevran ducked into the tent the next night with a smirk. “Motivation and focus indeed, o fair one. I have spent every possible moment studying this mechanism and I have no fear that it will take me more than a few moments to undo.” He sat where he had the previous night and dropped his wrist to his ankle. “Set me up.”

“Oh, you thought it would be the same again? Where’s the fun in that?” Leliana asked with a small smile of her own. “I thought we’d do it differently. This time, _you_ get undressed.”

“It will save me the trouble of doing it later, I suppose,” the assassin shrugged and started to shed clothes. “I will not let you distract me, you know. I am ready this time.” 

“It’s not _distraction_ , it’s motivation!” Leliana insisted. “To make you really, really want to learn that lock.”

“If you insist. Now, what is this contraption?” Leliana had rolled the ground cloth back from the edge of the tent a few inches, and a tall wooden stake had been hammered into the ground. A short length of light chain had been hammered to the top of the stake. “Salvaged out of the dwarf’s cart, I take it?”

“Exactly right. Put your wrist up on the top of the stake.”

Zevran sighed. “This is very sad. So... ugly. And primitive. You clearly deserve better tools, my dear. But I suppose it will get the job done, yes?” Rising to his knees, he put his hand where she indicated. Producing the lock he’d been practicing on, he caught two links on the U of the hasp and clicked it home, securing himself. “Like that?”

“No. Like this.” Leliana’s hand briefly covered the lock and when she removed it, a second one had joined the first.

“Oh, no. What is this?” the assassin asked in dismay. “Another one? Well, I shall have it off soon enough.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Leliana hummed, singsong in his ear, as she moved around behind him. “You’ll find it’s a more difficult challenge. Much - “ She paused to lick the outer edge of his ear from lobe to tip. “ - harder.”

He growled under his breath as the easy, assured victory disappeared. She giggled and dropped her head to nibble briefly at his neck as it bent to the task. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she added, running her hands down his sides. “This time, you have til the lantern burns down. When it’s dark, off you go.”

His head tilted just slightly as he glanced at the amount of oil left and cursed.

It was a much quieter evening than the night before, so much so that Leliana heard Alistair mutter, “Thank the Maker,” _sotto voce_. She kept her hands and mouth busily occupied on bare Antivan skin, stroking and licking first _here_ and then _there_ , never lingering in any one place for too long. Zevran worked with the silent, focused intensity of a Crow on a job. 

He might not be _distracted_ , but he was surely _affected_ , Leliana thought, kissing a line down a very tight jaw. Not that there weren’t more... _obvious_ signs as well, but the subtle ones were more thrilling, a secret code of thundering heartbeats, a fine sheen of sweat, and breath that came just a little too fast. She paused in her ministrations to rest her cheek on his shoulder and whisper, “How is it coming?” into his ear.

She saw him glance briefly at her out of the corner of his eye. “If I could use both hands, I think I... I might have it off,” he said, obviously frustrated. In more ways that one.

“Poor Zev,” she murmured, tracing a line down his spine with one idle finger. “You will figure it out tomorrow, I am sure. And next time, you will have both hands. I promise.”

“But you will change the lock again!” He dropped the lockpick with a sound of disgust and turned, making her sit back from him. “How am I to accomplish this goal if it keeps changing, Leliana?”

“But it’s not changing,” she reassured him, cupping his face with her palm. “If I started you with the lock I want you to learn, you would never unravel it. It is too much to take, all at once... yes?” The double entendre only earned her an impatient sigh. “You are making wonderful progress, Zevran. I have no doubt you will be a master of locks before the week is out.”

“I do not wish to _wait_ until the end of the week,” he growled, just as the lantern started to flicker.

“Mmm...” The bard bit her lip, looking him over. “It will be worth it, I think.”

The light guttered and went out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Night Three**

Leliana had found the perfect spot a few dozen more yards past where the latrine was dug. As Wynne and Alistair went on the early watch, she and Zevran discreetly slipped out of camp into the trees.

She ran the chain under the raised root of the great gnarled tree and, after instructing him to lie down on his stomach, looped either end around Zevran’s wrists, locking the two bracelets separately. “Although of course, you only need to undo one to get free,” she noted.

“There is no crate. I believe you promised me a crate,” he said, sounding disappointed.

“ _Tomorrow._ Tonight...” She sighed and twisted her hands. “Now I’m not sure.”

“Could you step to one side please, dear bard? You are in my moonlight. Very good, my thanks. Now, why do I not believe a word you are saying, mm?”

“It’s true,” she sighed, sitting down on the ground beside him. “I had planned to cover you over with some brush and bring Alistair over to... _apologize_ for the disturbance we made in camp the other night. If he’d let me.”

“This is a good plan, I approve,” Zevran nodded. “I would be hard-pressed to say whose shoes I would wish to be in. Truly, you have a genius for planning these things.”

“No. It is a _bad_ plan. While I _don’t_ think it would be wrong for Alistair to... _enjoy_ himself a little, it would be wrong for him to not know you were there. That would be using him, Zev.”

“Bah, he would never know.”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s a friend and it would be wrong. So... I need something else to motivate you.”

“You should have seen if any of the Orzammar gate guards would be willing. Dwarf is unusual; unusual is good.”

She smacked his shoulder. “It’s the same problem. I didn’t spent two years in the cloister and not come to understand why the Maker forbids blind lust.” 

The assassin only sighed and shook his head. “Well, that is a puzzle, then, if not only friends but everyone else is out of the game. I shall have to work on this lock in peace and -- “

“Everyone _real!_ ” Leliana said, sitting up straighter. 

He paused to glance up at her. “No calling up Fade spirits. That does not go well, it seems.”

“Next best thing to it. What handsome man has caught your eye in our travels, hm?”

Zevran tilted his head from side to side, considering. “I admit that fellow in Redcliffe, Teagan, was passing handsome. And single at his age, which in Antiva at least, we consider a sign.”

“And who for a woman?”

He chuckled. “A dangerous question. Of course my dear Kallian before all, and you are a most delightful playmate, but for an idle fancy? Hm. The regent’s daughter, I should think.”

“Queen _Anora?_ ”

“Yes, that is her name! I saw her when I was at the palace, ah, being hired. Very proud and beautiful, and remarkable eyes.”

“Goodness, but you aim high! Now, what contrivance... Ah, I believe I have it. So you were in Denerim, being hired for a very scandalous thing, at least by Ferelden standards, yes?” She flopped down next to him, head propped up on one hand.

“Just so.”

“The queen, she summons you to her chambers, to ask what her father is planning."

“Ah ha, in her chambers already. Well, she is the queen, is she not? I do not conceal anything from her. There are two Grey Wardens who stand convicted of killing her husband, and I am to enact her justice upon them.”

“And then Bann Teagan _barges_ in and demands to know what is going on. The queen is shocked!”

“I should think so. What a bold fellow he must be!” He laughed again. “Ah, only in pillow stories do people do such things. Well, it would be a complete scandal if it were said that the Crown was hiring Crow assassins, yes? We shall say...”

“She says that you’re her dalliance for the evening.”

“That is quite all right with me.”

“Oh, but the bann does not believe her. He heard that Arl Howe had brought an assassin into the country.”

“Well, perhaps he has, but it is not I. I am strictly an artist of pleasure, here at the queen’s command.”

“He seems very skeptical, and the queen, with just a quick nervous glance at you, suggests that you might demonstrate to the bann your skills.”

He chuckled again. “You are too much the minstrel, Leliana, with the story and the plot. Skip to the part where we are all naked and in bed together, that would be much better.”

“Oh!” Leliana swatted his shoulder. “You have no taste. How is the queen’s hair?”

“Golden and I think quite long. Ah, I think... perhaps... faugh, it slipped!” He cursed elaborately in Antivan and Leliana giggled.

“Very well. Naked and in bed, with her long golden hair spread out across the pillows. She is soft and warm under you, watching you with those marvelous eyes.”

“See, this is better already.”

“Bann Teagan, he is behind you... like this.” Inspired, she rolled forward, straddling the assassin on her hands and knees. “With his hard, broad chest pressed to your back and those big, strong arms to either side of you.”

“ _Much_ better,” he said, voice a little deeper now.

She leaned down to speak directly into his pointed ear. “You are sunk deep into the queen, unmoving, even though she tries to buck and twist under you. Are you ready for the bann? He is long and thick, already rubbing against your ass.”

“Quite... quite ready.” It seemed to Leliana that work on the lock had slowed to desultory prodding, and she licked her lips.

“Ah, he is not unkind, is Teagan Guerrin. He pushes in slowly, slowly... he is, after all, such a large man and you, an elf, so much smaller... tighter... he stretches and fills you well, doesn’t he? Until with a final thrust,” and she suddenly cocked her hips forward, pressing against his backside. 

He moaned, not loudly, but enough to encourage her. “I imagine he likes elves, does our Bann Teagan. I think he nibbles your ear while he has you there under him. You can be kissing the queen, on the mouth if you like, or maybe feeling her racing pulse under your lips. She is very eager and gasps when you fondle her fine white breast, but there is no moving yet. All pinned together, you in her and the bann in you. Very cozy, no? And I think after not too long, you are becoming eager, too, trapped between these two beautiful and powerful people. You squirm, backwards and forwards, and Teagan knows that you are ready for more.”

“Now none of you can move, all pinned together, so the bann must withdraw. He does, partway... you know this game, yes? You are the queen’s servant, you said, so the hard work falls to you. You draw out of her and slide up his length, then plunge forward again to bury yourself in her. Which is better, forward or back? Who can say? You must go faster, and faster, trying to do both at once.” And indeed, under her she could feel his hips rocking in sympathy with the tale, just small motions forward and back. With far too much glee, she got the timing of it and pushed forward as he came back, winning another surprised gasp. “The queen, she arches her back and tries to pull your mouth to her bosom; the bann leans forward to bite your shoulder, stifling his moans.” He had abandoned even the pretense of lockpicking now and ground back against her as she acted Teagan’s role. “The three of you are joined together as the tension builds and -- “

“Leliana! Zevran! I do not know what you are doing out there and I do not want to know!” Alistair called into the woods from the edge of camp. “But you need to... stop it and come back in for your watch.”

“Oh, and there is the time,” Leliana shrugged lightly and stood. “All done for tonight.” She bent down to hand Zevran the key to the locks; he seemed to be cursing a streak in Antivan. “See you back at camp!”


	4. Chapter 4

**Night Four**

Zevran ran his hand appreciatively over the top of the crate. “This must be practically an entire cow you are using to cover it,” he smiled. “Where did you find this?”

“The merchants outside of Orzammar are desperate to move goods,” she said, carefully placing an empty oil lamp and an ewer of oil before him. “And they sell many textiles and leather goods to the dwarves, along with the food. I thought this would be nicer than a scratchy old crate.”

“Ever the connoisseur, my dear. Is it to be another new lock tonight? I confess I have not truly mastered the one from yester-evening.”

“I saw you get it open, at least twice,” she accused. “But it is true that you are not _very_ deft at it just yet. So I propose, this time, to secure the chain in the center so that you must get both locks open before the time is up.”

His eyes kindled at the possibility of winning free tonight, but he still tilted his head to look at her from under half-lowered lids. “So... what is the trick? How much time shall there be?”

She gestured neatly to the lamp. “You make decide. Fill it as much as you like, and work as long as it glows. But while you work on it,” she smiled, “I will work on _you_.”

“Hm, I think you make have made a grave mistake, dear bard. Allow me to fill that lamp, and then - “

“Arms! To arms!”

The two rogues stared at each other for just a second, then Zevran bolted from the tent, back toward his own. Leliana threw her leather curiass over her head, grabbed her bow and quiver, and pushed the tent flap aside to see what was going on.

Sten’s head and arms emerged from the huge chain shirt that had been patched together for him at Redcliffe as the giant shrugged it on. Wynne was already calling down magical protections, and the hound Calenhad stood, growling, next to Alistair, who peered intently into the darkness beyond the camp. “We have a few moments yet, but I think there’s two emissaries with them,” the Grey Warden reported, the sweat beading on his brow a sure sign the creatures were near.

Zevran approached, buckling his blades on. “You will take one, I the other?” he confirmed. Alistair nodded, and the elf vanished into the shadows. 

“As soon as they’re close enough, I’ll smite the emissaries,” the almost-templar confirmed their usual battle order. “Zevran will finish one while they’re stunned and I’ll bash my way past the grunts to the other one. Sten, you and Calenhad make sure the grunts have other things to worry about. Leliana, Wynne: you’re our ranged support.” They all nodded - they had fought with these tactics too many times to count. Even so, Leliana still thought Alistair sounded quite nice when he was giving orders like that, though...

But now was definitely not the time. She took a position behind the barricades Sten had erected around the camp, nocked an arrow, and waited.

\------------------ 

“Why can you not sense shrieks?” Zevran asked peevishly.

“Shrieks have the ability to temporarily sever their connection to the darkspawn group mind, cloaking them from their fellows and from the Grey Wardens,” Wynne lectured as she wrapped a bandage around the fresh elfroot poultice on the assassin’s arm. “How they can do this is not known; it may be some sort of innate magical ability. We do know that their emissaries are nothing like human mages.”

“Cut themselves off from... is that true?” Alistair asked, surprised.

“I have no idea,” Wynne said dryly, “But he stayed still long enough to listen to me say it. There. The poultice should keep the wound from festering.” They’d learned after their first encounter with them that the shrieks were filthy, and the wounds they inflicted would become infected if not treated with care. Elfroot seemed to be the only sure fix - even with magical healing, some corruption or toxin could linger under the skin and erupt days later. “Let it sit overnight and it will be ready for magical healing in the morning. And by ‘let sit overnight,’ I mean, ‘go to bed.’ Your own bed. And sleep there.”

“As if I could sleep after a battle. My blood is singing in my veins!” the assassin protested, with a somewhat forlorn look towards Leliana’s tent.

“And in fifteen minutes, you will be out cold,” the healer said firmly. “You are wounded and you need rest.

“Tomorrow, Zevran,” Leliana whispered in his ear as she helped him to his feet.

“That’s what you said yesterday,” he grumbled. "I can stand, I can stand. It is my arm that is injured, not my legs. Nor other parts."

"Good," Wynne said crisply. "Then there will be no nonsense about requiring consolation in your tent, I take it."

"Well... now that you mention it, it does hurt abominably..." Zevran said slyly.

"Then I'll sit up with you," Wynne said. "Since I'm the one who can actually do something about that."

"She's right, Zevran," Leliana smiled. She laid a hand on his good arm. "You fought well. Now get some rest."

The Antivan sighed theatrically and allowed himself to be led back to his bedroll by the mage with the magical bosom.


	5. Chapter 5

**Fifth Night**

“A pillow to kneel upon? You spoil me.”

“You should be comfortable! It is mean to be a sensual experience, after all, and there should be _something_ between you and the hard ground.” The elf was undressed for tonight’s lesson; she required bare buttocks, and he was eager to feel the leather under his chest, so everything had come off. “Are you ready?”

The poultice - and enforced rest - had done its trick. Wynne’s magic had knitted torn flesh back together, and she had _reluctantly_ pronounced Zevran fit for duty. And other things. He’d lain around camp, practicing on his lock and trying to hide his progress from Leliana. 

She didn’t bother to try and sneak a look. If he was trying to hide it, he must be doing well, no? And that meant a slight change from her prior plans.

He filled the lantern generously, humming as he did so. “You think tonight’s the night?” she asked, smirking.

“I... have an idea that it is not beyond the realm of possibility, yes,” he admitted. She touched a small candle she’d lit from the main campfire to the lantern’s wick and then carefully set it aside. It was not lost on Zevran, she noticed, that she had not blown it out. “Ah, no time to lose, now,” he said, bending over the crate. “Lock me up, my dear, and we will see how my focus fares tonight.”

The chain was simply secured to the ground with a tent spike and a bit of twine - the links were not so large she could fit the spike through them. It was close enough to one end of the tent that her calves stuck out into the chill night air when she knelt in front of him to do up his wrists. She looped one end over his left wrist and locked it, then did the same for his right. He reached for the nearby lockpicks and froze, staring at that right wrist, then looked up at her.

She shivered delightedly at the angry, frustrated intensity of his glare. “That has two keyholes,” he gritted. “That is not the lock you were going to use last night.”

“Mm, but you’ve had an additional day of practice,” she said, leaning over to trail her fingers from his crown down along his ear to his neck and shoulder, admiring the sudden tension there. “But be happy! That is it, that is _the_ lock. Learn this one and you may unlock your desires. Who knows? You have given yourself quite a lot of time to work on it. Perhaps you will solve the riddle tonight after all.” She paused, listening to the just-audible sound of his hard, angry breathing, then suddenly pressed forward for a kiss.

She heard the _clink_ of the chains as he moved his hands, probably to try and push her away. She was, after all, burning his lamplight. But the slack wasn’t enough to let him reach her shoulders. She chuckled darkly against his mouth but, with a parting nip at his lower lip, broke the kiss and crawled past him into the tent.

“Cheaters never prosper,” he muttered, and she heard the metallic scratchings of the lockpicks in the locks. “I will see you well repaid for this, vixen.”

“Counting on it, Zev,” she said lightly. The shadows in the tent lurched suddenly as she picked up the candle. Considering the angles, and the narrow confines of the tent... she shuffled on her knees to get behind him, then straddled him, her knees outside of his. She brushed his hair to one side, off of his neck, and tipped the candle to allow a thin stream of wax to fall along the nape down to the line of his shoulders.

She heard him hiss quietly, but the thin probes of metal kept up their slow dance in his hands. “What?” she asked with mock surprise. “You’re not going to complain that you were promised a strapping instead of this? I really have riled you up, haven’t I?”

“Just you wait,” he promised in a low voice. “And I will more than adequately demonstrate for you.”

“Promises,” she laughed. She looped her fingers in his hair and gently pulled to the side, tilting his head sideways just so. “What are you planning, hm?”

“To open this lock, firstly,” he ground out. “I will consider the rest when that is done.”

“Mm, such single-minded purpose,” she said admiringly. “Very determined. I like it.” She paused for effect, ever the performer. “It’s a challenge.”

So saying, she tipped the candle forward again, dribbling the hot wax onto his upturned ear, drawing a careful line from lobe... to... (the slightest hesitation and then splash!) tip. He paused in his work, inhaling sharply, and she leaned over his bare back to lick at the underside of the ear - and then he didn’t seem to be breathing at all. “Mmm,” she hummed. “You are right; I do need better tools. Back in Orlais, we had little jeweled clips for your ears, to tease them all night... some had silken tassles that would swing when you walked, to caress you, or fine chains someone might tug, or even magical things, for the favorites of the wealthy.” She delicately lifted the cooled, hardened wax and lapped at the reddened ear tip, feeling him shudder under her. “You would look _fine_ in a pair of them, I think. Maybe in Denerim...”

With a grunt, he twisted his head out of her grasp, bending lower over the left lock. “Working, here,” he said.

“Oh, are you? And I interrupted. How awful of me.” She leaned back and blew out the candle. “You must have that one almost done by now.”

“I almost _did_ until something slipped and now I am starting _again_ ,” he growled.

“Oh, you sound so cross with me,” she said, half moaning it. Their little game didn’t have the same electric risk as the true Great Game, but there was still excitement to be had from taunting a chained Antivan Crow, making him angry and daring him to do something about it. And if it was not the life-or-death thrill of her past life, well, the cost to her soul was so much less. There was more joy in this, more playfulness, more _consent_.

“Probably,” she mused, twisting to rummage through the bag she’d brought back from the market, “because you’re still waiting for this.” He couldn’t see it behind him, so she turned back and lazily drew the twin tails of the quirt down his back and over his bottom. “I thought I might try to make something for you, but I’m not very good at that,” she admitted. “I used to work with an elf, very cunning hands, and he made all sorts of toys for us to use on the job. Luckily, I had enough silver to convince one of the merchants that he could drive his oxen back down the hill with a switch rather than this.”

“Ha!” There was a tiny _click_ sound and then the simpler lock hit the side of the tent and slid down. “One down, one to go!”

She lightly flicked the tails up to his shoulders for another caressing sweep down. “You remember, the time is up when the lantern goes out. However it goes out.”

“Yes, of course. I have it here. Now, are these coupled, do you think, or can I throw their latches separately?”

“I _almost_ believe you aren’t dying for this,” she smiled, and cracked the little whip against his buttocks. Not too hard - she was out of practice, and he would need warming up. He didn’t even buck in response.

Yet.

She twitched it back and forth in a steady rhythm: _slap slap slap_ , from tailbone to the tops of his thighs and back up, until the golden skin had taken on a rosy glow in the lantern light. He was rocking back, just a little, with each strike. She paused to run a cool hand over the heated skin and was rewarded with a deep-throated purr. “Perhaps I am forgiven, then,” she smiled.

“Oh no,” he answered, his voice thicker than his earlier offhanded comments about the locks. “You have much more work to do for that.”

“Then let’s have a few more of these,” she said, taking up the quirt but striking harder this time, leaving white prints that quickly turned red. Zevran’s breathing turned harsh quickly and she saw his head drop. Could he still be working on his lock like that? Perhaps...

She gave him two blows across the back of his thighs, just for surprise, and then put the quirt down. In the quiet, she could hear... not quite panting, but certainly heavy breathing. “Now what else do I have... that’s right, I went picking flowers.”

She saw his head turn. “What?”

“Do you know furze? Sometimes they call it gorse. It has beautiful yellow flowers and it grows wherever there is sun and poor soil, all year round. Even up in the Frostbacks.” She picked the bouquet out of the bag and admired it. “Guess what they use it for, here in Ferelden.”

“They... feed it to their dogs?”

She picked out a few sturdy stems, set the rest back down, and hit the reddened backside.

“Maker’s mercy!” Zevran gasped, not expecting the sensation at all.

“They’re evergreens with spiny little leaves,” Leliana smirked. “Should I have mentioned that?” She moved again so that she was alongside him, the better to see his reactions.

Two quick hits and the lockpicks tumbled to the ground. He _was_ panting now, eyes shut and fists clenched. The stems were not strong enough to hit very hard, but each was covered in the prickly leaves, like hundreds of small pins. She amused herself with this for some time, until the panting had become gasping and then moaning, and his backside raised to meet each blow. Then she put it down, tweaked his ear tip, and slid back to the rear of the tent.

She sifted through the bag. There was quite a lot of oil left in the lantern, even if she didn’t think there was going to be any more work done on the lock tonight. Best to pace things, she thought, laying out a huge fluffy feather for a lady’s headdress, a bundle of birch twigs - another Ferelden innovation, who would have thought it? - a pair of fox-fur mittens, and a bottle of oil to which she’d added just a drop of the freezing coating Zevran had cooked up for their weapons.

It was going to be a long night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sixth Night**

It was mid-morning the next day when the birds around camp went suddenly silent. Calenhad’s ears perked and he turned uphill, scenting the air - and was off and running with joyous, excited barks. 

Leliana could feel their approach through the soles of her leather boots, tiny trembles in the ground that became more pronounced; the tips of the tree branches were actually shaking as the golem lumbered into camp. Kallian and Morrigan were right behind it, with Calenhad jumping in circles around them. The witch, sour-faced as ever, arrowed off to her own lonesome tent as soon as she could. Kallian looked tired, she thought, but the elf waved merrily. “Hail the camp! We’re back! Get ready to pack up and move!”

Alistair rushed to her, face alight with excitement. “You got the treaty ratified? We’ve got a dwarven army? That’s great! We’ll head straight back to Redcliffe and - “

“Um... no, sorry.”

Her fellow Grey Warden looked at her with consternation. “Well, then, we can’t just give up and leave!”

“Right. Just let me tell you what happened, okay? ...Zev!” The assassin was sauntering over just a _little_ too quickly to be entirely casual about it, Leliana thought, smiling. Kallian practically tackled him with an enthusiastic hug and a kiss sufficiently involved that _Sten_ felt moved to remind her, “Your report, kadan?”

“Missed you,” Kallian murmured, before turning around within the circle of his arms to tell them about Orzammar. Leliana found herself examining her fingernails, remembering again that no one could command the arrows of love, and that she should be glad for her friends. 

Kallian told them that neither candidate for the throne would talk to her without some favors being done; she’d undertaken tasks on the behalf of both because she wanted to suss out each in person. “And once I’d done that, and we’d cleaned the floor with their champions at their Glory Proving thing, both were really very keen to be the first to invite me and my company to the Grey Warden quarters. Not that I’m really sure it’s any safer than out here...”

“Nest of squishy little vipers,” Shale agreed.

“...but it’s definitely warmer and drier and they have beds there. And I want Sten to see their fighting forces, and Alistair, you should meet our potential ally leaders, and Zev and Leliana, you both do the politics thing, right? Because I sure don’t. So I’d like your read on that.”

“So... let’s start a tear-down,” Alistair said. “Somebody get Morrigan to freeze the fire out, okay?” The group splintered, returning to their tents to pack up gear and take down canvas.

“Come on.” Kallian grabbed a fistful of Zevran’s shirt and started for their tent. “A week’s been way too long to wait.”

“Ah, my dear Grey Warden...”

She turned to look back at him when he didn’t follow immediately. “What? Come on, we’ll just pack faster. It won’t hold anyone up.”

“Go on, go on,” Leliana said, a bit reluctantly, hating to see five nights of buildup wasted on a hurried encounter like this. But... “Far be it from me to stand in the way of two people in - “ She coughed to covered the pause, remembering at the last minute how Zevran reacted to the ‘l-word.’ “In need of a reunion.”

“What?” Kallian looked thoroughly confused now, and a trifle suspicious. “Stand in the way?”

Zevran gently disengaged her hand from his shirt. “Leliana has been teaching me to pick locks using, ah, secret bardic methods, I think. I am quite at the point of mastering it, and I would hate to ruin the training process.”

“Secret bardic methods?”

“I will tell you all about it,” Zevran promised, leading her away. “And perhaps celebrate a somewhat one-sided homecoming, yes?”

\-----------------------

“Leliana.” Kallian sounded just a bit cross as they trudged up the path to the gates of Orzammar.

“Looking for little old me?” she asked innocently.

“Tonight is going to be really amazing, right? Because I’m going to be really put out otherwise.”

“It sounded like you were already putting out,” the bard said slyly.

“No! That’s the problem!” The other rogue shook her head in consternation. “He had a light lunch of Denerim clam, but wouldn’t let me - “

“You had best watch your words,” Morrigan said breezily from behind them, “lest your fellow Warden combust from sheer embarrassment.”

“I’m not listening!” Alistair said loudly from the front of the column.

“Maker forbid I should _agree_ with her, but _could_ you save this for a more private moment?” Wynne asked irritably. “Within a few hours, we will be settled in Orzammar’s fabled halls. With their very thick stone walls. Please _wait_.”

Kallian grunted but looked at Leliana expectantly, her initial question still unanswered. The bard shrugged. “That’s between him and a pair of my best locks. We will just have to see.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Let’s go-o-o,” Kallian said impatiently, bouncing on the edge of the bed. “How’s this work? I hope I was supposed to get naked, ‘cause I already did.”

“I think I can work with that,” Leliana smiled. “We should all be undressed... Kallian, why don’t you help Zevran out of his clothes?”

“Oh yeah!” The enthusiastic city elf had her lover stripped before Leliana had finished laying aside her tunic. He chuckled and caught her cheek with one hand, holding her still long enough to reach behind her head with the other hand and loosen the coiled braid there. The silvery tail fell nearly to her waist. 

“Oh, please let me get the rest!” Leliana begged. The Warden’s hair was wonderful, fine and soft and silky, and playing with it was always a joy. “After I get Zevran set up, of course.”

“And what is the lesson tonight?” he asked. “The room is quite fine but very... stony. I am not seeing much in the way of hooks, or...”

“I was thinking,” the bard mused, “that it’s really quite difficult to work a lock that’s right at your wrist, you know? And it’s not very _fair_ since you’re going to mostly be working on chests and doors. So I thought you should have both hands _really_ free tonight.”

“Oh ho!” He reached out for Kallian, who giggled and pressed close. “Then I think perhaps I will put them to better use! ...but surely you have thought of that, dear bard?”

Leliana answered with a brief stroll to the armor stands that had been provided for them and unhooking a piece of Zevran’s kit from a peg. She tossed it to him and he caught it with a groan, recognizing the hardened leather cup he used for groin protection. “This will be the ugliest and least pleasant chastity belt in the history of the cursed device, my dear.”

“So get it off in a hurry,” she teased. 

“Let me put it on you,” Kallian volunteered as Leliana bent to fish an awl, two locks and the picks out of her own bag. She was not really surprised at all when she turned back around to see one hip buckled, one hanging loose, and half of Zevran’s shaft in Kallian’s mouth. The elf froze, looked at Leliana guiltily, and backed off, releasing him with an audible _pop_. “Just, you know, warming him up...”

“She insisted,” Zevran shrugged. “A good thing I had this sized for all occasions...” he said as he positioned the cup carefully over himself and, with his tradmark dramatic sigh, buckled the other hip. “There. Now _how_ do you intent to _lock_...”

She held up the awl. “Just give me a minute,” she said, dropping to her knees beside Kallian. The strap ends on either side pointed in toward his navel, either one in fairly easy reach. Working from the inside _out_ , she poked quick holes through the belt and the strap end and slipped the hasps of the two locks through them.

Zevran seemed to be making the best of the situation, running the fingers of one hand through her hair and fondling Kallian’s ear with the other. She rested her head against his thigh and purred, and Leliana remembered that there was still a braid to loosen.

She offered the lockpicks to Zevran. “You call,” she smiled. “Play with us, or work on your locks, and _then_ play with us.”

“A truly wretched choice,” he said with feigned melancholy. “And how shall the length of the examination be determined this time, mm?” he asked, lifting his hand from her head to take the picks. 

“Two locks, two ladies,” Leliana mused. “Finish them before we finish each other, once each. If you don’t make it in time, then you can still come and play - but you’re wearing that,” she rapped lightly on the leather cup.

Kallian looked up at him, very sternly. “Get. Them. Off.”

“As you desire, my Warden” he replied, backing instantly to the edge of the bed to sit down and get to work.

“Look at him. We are going to put on such a fine show and he will miss it all,” Leliana pouted as she led Kallian up onto the bed.

Zevran muttered something in Antivan and shifted so that he was sitting cross-legged against the head of the bed. “Better, o taskmaster?”

Leliana smiled and nodded; she could track his progress on the locks _much_ better this way. She didn’t intend to let him off the hook just yet; a whole evening’s fun with the two of them and no release would wind him up perfectly. And the whole effect would just be heightened if she could time _their_ finale just before his.

Eyes sparkling with the thought of it, she reached out to embrace Kallian. She traced slow, spiraling paths over her back, catching the braid and undoing a turn with each pass, as the Warden jumped straight to a passionate kiss. “Andraste’s ass,” she muttered, coming up for air. “You remember that it’s been a _week_ , right? How can you be so _slow_? I’m gonna... what’d Morrigan say? Combust! Come on!”

“If you insist,” Leliana shrugged, and pushed her back hard onto the bed, pinning the smaller woman with her body. She buried her face in the crook of Kallian’s neck, sucking and biting. The Warden arched with pleasure, but was soon demanding, “Ears! Ears! ...oh... oh yeah, _fuck_ yeah... right there, right there, just... _oh!_ The other one, the other one, Zev!”

“Not just yet, my dear Warden,” the assassin replied, trying for nonchalance and missing slightly. “For which you may blame the bard.”

“I’ll get it,” Leliana murmured, moving her oral attentions to the other neglected lobe while caressing the damp one with her hand. Kallian bucked so hard she nearly threw Leliana off of her; the elf might be small, but her slight frame hid whipcorded muscles. 

“Nnnngh! Oh come on, fuck me, Red, fuck me!” It also hid a mouth straight out of Denerim’s gutters, Leliana thought, as she slid down Kallian’s lithe body. She paused at a perfect little breast to tickle the pink nipple with her tongue, earning her a gasp and the loud assertion, “That’s _not fucking!_ ”

“Tsk. Crankier than usual, my dear,” Zevran observed, trying to keep one eye on his lock and one eye on the women.

“ _Because I haven’t been laid in a week!_ Grey Warden appetites and all, you know? _Ahhhhh!_ ” Leliana had slid partly down over the foot of the bed as she worked even lower, delicately tonguing the little pearl between Kallian’s legs. She was wise enough to keep one hand on her hips to at least moderate the Warden’s excited bucking. “Oh, come on come on come onnnnnn...”

“How’s this?” Leliana asked, sliding in one finger and curling it slightly, knowing full well it was much less than what she wanted.

She could hear the elf’s head thumping at the head of the bed. “Moooore,” she moaned, so Leliana slid a second one into her tight channel. “I better work you looser before a give you another,” she teased, starting to slide them slowly in and out and gently scissor them.

Kallian responded predictably, hips jerking to a faster rhythm as she tried to drive herself onto Leliana’s fingers. “More! Harder!”

Leliana spared a glance at Zevran; he was sweating and, she suspected, breathing hard. (Not that she could hear over Kallian’s enthusiastic screams and moans.) Two picks were wedged into one of the dual keyholes in the first lock; he had it at least half done and secured. _Mustn’t let him get too comfortable a lead_ , she thought, and pressed another finger into Kallian. She stroked in and out fast and hard, and as her lover’s moans steadily increased in pitch, she leaned forward to suck at the delicate folds of flesh before her.

The Warden bent like a bow and went rigid, then squealed as she came. Leliana made sure to follow her up, slowing her ministrations through the climax and gently tapering them off until Kallian flopped back down to the bed.

“Whuff. I needed that, Red. Thanks.”

“You are, as always,” Zevran said, manipulating a pick with a final flourish, “inspirational, my dears.” There was a _click_ and he gave a quick tug, pulling the first lock open. “One for one, it seems.”

“All right! Ohhh, can’t wait. In fact, I’m gonna be totally greedy and selfish,” Kallian announced, rolling up onto one side. “I wanna see you both. Red, think you could maybe sit right in front of Zev?”

“And how am I supposed to pick locks with a luscious woman between my arms, I ask you? You are working at cross-purposes with yourself, my dear Warden.”

“Just while I’m above the waist, then. Right? Sort of a... whatchacallit, with the white flag and the not fighting for a couple minutes?”

“I can do that,” Leliana smiled, tugging at Zevran’s ankles to straighten out his legs. 

“Just to torture me more, I am sure,” the Antivan complained, although he didn’t sound too unhappy about it. Leliana got all the way back up onto the bed and turned around, snuggling her back against Zevran’s chest. He hummed appreciatively, and Kallian beamed. “Beautiful! Mm, makes me wanna - “ The Warden practically sprang forward with an enthusiastic kiss.

Leliana returned it hungrily enough - it had been a week for her, too, after all. But she pulled back with a gasp at the unexpected sensation of four hard, cool points sliding down the back of her neck. “So you will know I am not cheating,” Zevran explained with mock innocence, “I thought you would like to be able to account for my lockpicks at all times.”

“Ooo, good one,” Kallian murmured, before darting back in to nibble at the bard’s jawline and scatter kisses on her lips and cheeks..

She arched her back slightly as he increased the pressure; not enough to really hurt, just enough to _promise_ pain. At the base of her neck the two pairs separated, each slowly tracing a shoulder out to the top of the arm, and then back in and up either side of the neck. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his arms flip, switching from _pulling_ the metal probes up to _pushing_. Pinpricks under her jaw made her tilt her chin up. “Very good,” Zevran purred behind her, and Kallian lost no time falling upon her exposed neck, kisses and licks turning to nips. 

Then the elf slid lower, nipping and giggling as she went, until she had one nipple lightly between her teeth and flicked it with her tongue. Leliana moaned and arched in earnest, and one of the pressure points on her jaw abruptly disappeared. “Brasca,” she heard behind her. “I dropped it.”

“Just let it _go_ ,” Leliana gasped. 

“Good for you to say, who would prefer I did not have it,” Zevran grumbled, twisting to look over the edge of the bed. “Ah, excellent! Keep on, dear ladies, I believe I can just reach down, and - “

_CLANK._


	8. Chapter 8

Things happen very quickly with three rogues around. 

The Game was afoot. Lockpicks did not go _CLANK_. Whatever _CLANK_ was, it was not something Leliana had planned. A flash of pure excitement hit as she tried to roll forward and away.

She _should_ have rolled right over and past Kallian, who was leaning well forward for her administrations. But with a wide grin, the elf sat up and caught the bard by either shoulder.

 _They planned this_ , was all she could think, as a strong arm behind her looped under her elbows, pulling her arms insistently back, and something heavy and cold that went _CLANK_ closed around her wrists. “Two locks! You agreed!” she accused him.

“Technically, my dear, I did not.” Zevran spoke directly into her ear. “I _did_ open your challenge lock, yes? What would a second one prove, really? That I am too foolish to realize I only need undo one to get the device off?”

She tested the restraints; they felt like very serious iron manacles. “It was symmetrical! And poetic!”

“But we have played by bardic rules all week, dear vixen,” he said. “I thought perhaps tonight we should play by _Crow_ rules.”

She shivered at the implied threat - or was it promise? - but wasn’t going to go along _that_ easily. “And what are Crow rules, mm?” she challenged him.

“I’m the Crow, I make the rules,” Zevran laughed easily. 

“Zev said you were _such_ a cocktease all week,” Kallian said, running her hands up and down Leliana’s sides. “Not nice, Red.”

“It was motivational! And it worked. Did you see that lock? Only five days to learn to crack it.”

“It’s true,” Zevran mused, working the protective cup, one strap still buckled and locked, down his leg.

“You gonna let her get off easy?” Kallian asked, surprised.

“Do not be ridiculous,” he scoffed. “She is not getting off for some time. Now, you should know, lockpicking was not all I learned.”

Leliana craned her neck, trying to look at him. “What? What are you talking about?”

He shifted to the side to look her in the face, keeping one hand between her shoulderblades to steady her. “Applied botany,” he smirked, smiling more broadly as her eyes widened. “Kallian, my dear, check the outside left pocket of my pack, yes?”

She hopped up to do so. “Uh... what am I looking for?” she asked, rummaging tentatively in the canvas pouch. “There’s just some... kindling or something in here.”

“That is it, yes. Birch twigs, bring them here. Now...” He sat back, pulling her with him so they were both slightly reclined. “I think just two or three will do. What do you say, Leliana? You are the expert.”

She huffed. “They’re not suitable, Zev. Too short, too small.”

“To redden you lovely posterior, perhaps,” he agreed. “But that is not what I had in mind. Kallian, what were you doing before I so rudely interrupted you?”

“Oh, this!” The Warden returned eagerly to her breasts, licking and sucking and nibbling one while squeezing and caressing the other. It effectively killed Leliana’s desire to argue further and she curved her back again, shamelessly offering them for more attention. She gave a small whine of disappointment when the hand withdrew, but at least Kallian’s tongue was -

_What did he have in mind?_

She snapped her eyes open just in time to see the little bundle of twigs snap down, lightly striking her right nipple. She cried out - mostly in surprise - and when it came again, she found herself arching so strongly, she was staring up at Zevran. He raised an eyebrow, and struck her again.

She moaned, heaving her chest slightly as her body tried to bend further than it could. It didn’t read as pleasure, not the same way Kallian’s flickering tongue did, and not really as pain, just... _intense_. And _good_.

A few strikes more, a murmur from behind her - and they switched, with Kallian rolling her tongue over and around the flogged, sensitive nub. Bent as she was and with her arms pinioned, she couldn’t thrash too much, but she tried - oh, she tried! The little birch began to lightly flog her other side and she jerked in response. The world narrowed to the sensations being inflicted on her breasts and the growing fire between her legs as they switched back _again_...

She was out of breath when they finally stopped; after she stopped convulsively arching her back, she dimly realized her mouth and throat were bone dry from all the moaning and panting. Zevran helped her sit up and placed a hand possessively on her neck, fingers curling lightly around to her throat. “Now, my dear,” he purred, rising to his knees so that he was taller than she, “will you behave yourself if I dispense with these charming bracelets? I warn you, if I have to put them back on, we will banish you to a chair for the next few hours and pleasure ourselves extravagantly while you watch.”

She tipped her head back against his chest and closed her eyes. “I’ll be good,” she whispered.

The hand at her throat moved, and within a moment, there was a _click_ and then more clanking as the manacles came free and were set aside. She chafed her wrists and rolled her shoulders, glad to be unrestrained. _Or at least from that somewhat awkward position._

A _pop_ off to one side indicated that Kallian had won her battle with a cork stopper; the surface wine the dwarves had left for their honored guests was passed around quickly. “And now, I think it is time for that pretty, wicked mouth of yours to fulfil some of the promises it has made, yes? Do you not wish to _see_ the results of your handiwork?”

Kallian’s eyes widened. “Could we? Um, see it? I mean, if that’s not - “

“It’s not,” Leliana smiled as Zevran sighed and shook his head. Kallian had a wild, innocent enthusiasm and something of a streak of impish mischief, but the subtleties of these games were sometimes a bit lost on her. It was one of the things Leliana loved about her.

Zevran stood on the bed; Kallian kneeled beside him, arms around his waist, watching the proceedings with panting interest. Leliana rose to her knees to run her hot tongue up the length of Zevran’s shaft and under the ridge of the head; he growled. “There has been the teasing all week. Take it!”

She obliged, taking him partway into her mouth and then, after a quick breath, sliding all the way down to the root. Kallian cooed in admiring approval; Zevran made a rather different noise. She swallowed around him then drew back til she had just his head. A few flicks of her tongue and then she was down again, faster this time and sucking harder and longer. She felt a surge of desire and control; this was always something she'd done for marks, and it usually meant she was _winning_ , no matter how meek the role she was playing. She felt a hand clench in her short red hair and she pulled up, then took him in short, rapid strokes, tongue working clever circles under the head and up along the slit. She shifted her weight onto one hand to bring the other up and grip where she’d left a slick of wetness, pumping in time with the motion of her head so that when he tensed -

She pulled her mouth away, hand still stroking, and sat up to let the first white strands fall on her chest. Kallian inhaled sharply at the whole display, and even Leliana was pleased with the force of it. She’d had a good week, after all. A second and even a third spurt splattered on her chest and breasts, and then Kallian turned her head to suck him clean. She eyed Leliana the while, and finally broke off muttering, “That’s mine,” and crawled over to lick the bard clean.

Leliana relaxed, enjoying her ministrations. “So is it my turn now?” she asked.

“Mmmm... no, I think now we will tie you to the chair while we pleasure ourselves extravagantly.”

“What!” She sat up straight. “You said - “

“I said I would do it if you were bad. I did not say I would _not_ do it if you were good.”

“Zev.” Kallian cocked her head at him. “Don’t be an ass. I thought that’s what you meant, too.”

“But I still have not had an opportunity to pay my respects to _you_ , my dear Grey Warden,” he protested, dropping down onto the bed with them. “Now that the... edge is off, so to speak, I am eager to give you the welcome you deserve.”

Kallian’s resolve visibly wavered. “Yeah, but... it won’t be any fun for her to be stuck alone on a chair.”

“It will be fun. I will _make_ it fun,” he promised, then grinned at Leliana. “Of a sort.”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “Then let’s see what you’ve got.”


	9. Chapter 9

“Excellent! Kallian, get her present.” The Warden hopped off the bed, and Leliana’s eyebrow turned quizzical. “Before they came to get us, sweet Kallian found us gifts,” Zevran explained. “We’ve already played with mine,” he waved in the direction of the discarded manacles. “And now we will have yours... in a moment. I think... the ropes first. Would you bring those as well, my dear Warden? Right pocket of my pack.”

Kallian padded back with a large hank of rope and a polished wooden case. “Ah, thank you, my dear." Zevran took the rope and kissed her. "Give me this; I will not be long about it.”

And he wasn’t. A few wraps above her breasts and a few wraps below, and then the center cinched tight, pinching her breasts between the wraps. He tested the ropes, to see that they were not too tight, and nodded. “I must say, the effect is... exaggerated on a woman of your generous proportions,” he noted. “It feels good, yes? Like a lover’s hands, holding tightly before a caress.”

“Mm... yes,” Leliana agreed, reaching up to provide the suggested caress herself. But Zevran caught her wrists. 

“Oh no, dear bard. Not yet. The manacles next, I think... Ah, there.” He stepped around her to fasten her wrists together behind her back again, and then his arm snaked up and over her shoulder. “Here, take the key,” he said, holding it before her face, “and take care not to drop it. If it were to be lost, we might have to call in, say, Wynne and her little glowing light to help find it.”

“How’s she supposed to - oh.” Kallian’s protest was cut off as Leliana obediently took the key with her mouth. “Ffft, not like I couldn’t pick the locks. And I guess you could, too, now.”

“That is not the point, my dear Warden. Now, why don’t you show her your present?”

“Right!” Kallian slid the top of the box off and glanced up at Leliana nervously. “I hope this is okay. I mean... I’m not trying to say anything. You were just talking about all the fine things you had in Orlais, and I thought... you know, maybe...” She took a deep breath. “Here it is!”

Leliana moaned appreciatively around the key in her mouth. They called it an _objet d’amour_ in Orlais, and the Antivans termed it _diletto_ , but she didn’t know what the dwarves named it - and it was so very clearly dwarva craftsmanship. Black-green obsidian glass glittered in the lamplight, highlights picking out the painstakingly carved head and even the veins along its length. And it was a rather modest length, perfectly adequate - but the girth! It was impressive, even for a dwarf.

“It’s all right?” Kallian asked, and Leliana nodded sharply; Zevran hummed in appreciation. The Warden smiled with relief. “They had a bigger one but honestly, I didn’t want it anywhere _near_ me and, well, I’m kinda hopin’... _Anyway_ there’s a sort of leather based for it... and then you tie it on. I got the prettiest ties they had...”

“I believe dear Leliana is familiar with the uses of the device,” Zevran observed dryly. “Back to the bed for the moment, I think...”

She walked herself over, staring hungrily at Kallian. She mounted the bed gracefully, kneeling and bending over to rest her cheek on the sheets.

“Guess that means you like it,” Kallian said, pleased and relieved. “I’m gonna be careful but cross your fingers if I’m going too fast, okay? I’ll start with some fingers, and then...”

Leliana felt the cool smoothness of the toy between her legs as Kallian rubbed and twirled it there to get it slick with her wetness. Then the broad head was nudging at her entrance; she closed her eyes and relaxed, letting her breath out in another moan.

Kallian pressed, gently at first, getting in little more than a fingerswidth or two. She drew it back a little and pressed forward again; Leliana felt the burn of the stretch, but it was far from too much. A little back, a little more forward; a little back, a little more forward; it was like being taken by half-inches. And she wanted so much more than that - tight around it as she was, it stroked and stimulated everything inside. But maybe... if she focused, even those half-inches might be enough to -

“Tsk, tsk.” Her eyes flew open to find Zevran’s face not far from her own; he was lying opposite her, one hand slowly working his own sex. “The game is to wait, vixen, as you made me wait. If you find your release now, the game will be over, and most unsatisfactorily so.”

“Mmph.” 

“And let me tell you, it is delightful to have that wicked mouth stopped up like that. I, meanwhile, can tell you how positively ravished you look, bound _and_ chained, flushed with desire as Kallian slowly fucks you with that _thing_.” He leaned slightly back and looked up, sighing happily. “A brave sight indeed, and I hope to see many variations of it in the coming days, yes?”

She closed her eyes to better ignore him and his _words_ that were pushing her closer to the climax she’d been told to avoid. That, of course, only made her more aware of the _diletto_ pressing deeper into her, spreading and stretching her... She moaned again, and again, and beat her head against the mattress in frustration.

Then, it was done. Kallian was tracing light fingers over her inner thighs, and Leliana could hear that the elf’s breathing was a little rapid. “Wow. That’s... wow. And we’re gonna... _uhhnnnn_. Zev, couldn’t we just - “

“Yes, absolutely. After,” he said, rolling up. “Now tie it on, not too tightly. It should slide, just a little.” They tied the _diletto_ so that it would not slide out - and oh, it wanted to - then helped her walk unsteadily to the chair. A few more ropes, and her ankles and the manacles were secured to it.

Rising from tying her ankle, Zevran brushed her cheek. “Enjoy the show,” he smirked, trailing a finger down her neck, collarbone, over the rope harness and to her breast - lifting it away just before he reached the hard, straining nipple. She arched her back but brushed against nothing but air.

 _He plays too well by half,_ she thought, as the two lovers began their play. He knew her preferences and always shifted them so that her unobstructed view would be of Kallian. They went slowly, which made the Warden less shrill and less profane, more inclined to throaty moans as she unabashedly touched herself or her lover for pleasure. That glorious silvery hair fell in waves over her shoulders, framing her face and her small, perfect breasts, and her face was a picture of wanton desire.

Leliana rocked slightly, moving against the dark obsidian cock, enough to titillate but not to satisfy. She wasn’t sure if Zevran’s warning still applied; eventually, she no longer cared, rocking until the chair creaked and shaking her shoulders in an impossible quest to find _something_ to rub her nipples. But it wasn’t _enough_ ; there was tightness and pressure and the slightest bit of friction inside that she was chasing madly but could never quite catch, and uphill climb to a peak that kept receding into the distance.

She didn’t realize that she had gotten lost inside herself until she was being kissed by soft and tender lips, gently and chastely, and the key was taken from her. She opened her eyes and Kallian was there, crouched in front of her and pulling the harness loose. _click CLANK_ and the manacles were off and she threw her arms around Kallian’s neck. “Take me,” she whispered desperately in her lover’s ear. “Please, please just _take me_ now.”

Kallian kissed her, just behind the ear, and whispered back, “Working on it. You’re still tied to a chair.”

Leliana buried her face in Kallian’s neck and practically screamed her frustration. The knots at her ankles were loosened quickly; Zevran didn’t even bother to fully undo them, just put enough slack in so that he could guide her feet free. They all three wobbled back to the bed and fell onto it, Kallian’s quick fingers flying to the ties on Leliana’s thighs. Once undone, she withdrew the _diletto_ , a little quickly in her haste. Leliana bucked and cried out, not in pain, but for the loss of the sensation.

As Kallian secured the toy to herself, Zevran pressed up alongside the bard, flicking his tongue over one criminally-neglected nipple. “Is my further participation desired?” he asked, as neutrally as possible, given the circumstances.

 _”Oui!”_ she cried, writhing on the sheets from sheer _want_. She _wanted_ them both, both filling her, until she was dissolved in it. Zevran darted away, for his oils, no doubt, but then Kallian was with her again, the _diletto_ pressed rock-hard between them until they rolled until the elf was the one laying on the bed, guiding the slick green-black toy back into Leliana. It slid in readily now; Leliana tossed her head back, eyes squeezed shut, and gasped.

“What should I - “

 _“Juste... juste.... ah! Ah!”_ She rocked on her knees, faster and harder, until the great knot of burning desire in her belly uncoiled, hot tendrils of pleasure rippling out from that center, and she saw stars behind her eyelids.

“I... appear to be late to the dance,” Zevran said ruefully, oil in one hand, his member in the other. 

“Oh no,” Leliana gasped, a little short of breath. She smiled at Kallian beneath her (who looked both confused and impressed with this turn of events) and kissed her, then pushed the hair out of her eyes as she looked over her shoulder at Zevran. “The ball is just beginning, _ami_.”

“Red?” She looked back down at Kallian under her. “Shouldn’t I... I dunno, _do_ something?”

“You will, _ma caille_ , you will,” Leliana reassured her... then purred and pushed back against the warm, oiled finger behind her. “Mm...” She rested her weight on her elbows to be able to stroke the elf’s face. “It feels good, you know, to have you in me like this.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yes. Especially because I can still be up here, to see your face... your hair... and these are not too bad, either!” She dipped forward to lick slowly along her lover’s ear. Kallian hummed appreciatively and squirmed, the motion wiggling the _diletto_ as well. “ _Oh,_ yes. See, that is _very_ nice... oh, and that as well!” Zevran added a second finger, stretching her gently but insistently. “Come, I think that is enough. Let me have you both.”

“As you desire,” Zevran said, withdrawing his fingers. She lowered her head again to nuzzle Kallian, tingling with anticipation as he lined himself up and then slowly, steadily, began to press in.

She moaned loudly and nearly collapsed onto Kallian. “Oh! It is so _much!_ ”

Zevran paused considerately. “Too much?”

“ _Non, non!_ More, fill me! I want... _ah!_ ” She ground her hips slowly in small circles, panting, reveling in holding so much of her two closest friends so tightly within her. “Oh, it is _perfect._ ”

Zevran’s rougher hand slid up her sides. “I think we can improve on it yet.”

Leliana supported herself on her own arms again. Kallian was watching her, flushed but still uncertain as to what to do. “Can you roll you hips up?” Leliana asked her. Kallian demonstrated that she could and Zevran, needing no instruction in this, pulled back. “Hard as a rock, my dear Warden,” he murmured as Leliana felt them sliding within her. 

“You can feel it, too?”

“Oh, yes.”

Kallian pouted. “I feel left out.”

“I can help you with that,” Leliana smiled down at her. “Zev, you’ll help set the rhythm?”

“But of course. Now my dear, you will pull back, and I will advance...” She let them coordinate while she went back to work on Kallian’s delicate ear. The elf shuddered underneath her, encouraging Leliana to more passionate work -

\- until they settled into a steady pace. She tried, she really did, to continue to please her Kallian, but the continuous, relentless motion of the thick glass cock between her legs and Zevran’s hard, hot length sunk into her ass reduced her to a squriming, moaning mess between them. Zevran leaned over her back, bending low to kiss his Warden as the two of them stroked into her. Her squirming turned to thrashing, and when she started screaming almost mindlessly in Orlesian, Zevran suddenly doubled his speed, gripping both her shoulders tightly as he gasped out a climax of his own.

They lay all three entangled for a happy, tired moment, until Kallian piped up, “So, looks like fun. Can I try?” 

The other two had to chuckle. “Actually, my dear,” Zevran said, “there is something else the dear bard promised me that I would like to collect. But never fear, we will not leave you wanting.”

“Damn well better not.”

“Zevran, what are you - _oh_!” Leliana laughed. “That was hardly a promise. Has it been on your mind much, then?”

“Since dear Kallian showed me what she had gotten you? Most definitely, yes,” he smirked.

“After some wine,” Leliana waved in its general direction, “and something to eat, I think.”

“And that,” Kallian pointed to the large stone tub across the room. “You gotta try that.”

The Diamond Quarter had heated running water. It must somehow involve bringing down water from the aquifer, perhaps routing it near a lava flow - but leave the details to the Mining Caste. They shared a long, glorious soak which ended when the game of “who can stay underwater doing naughty things the longest” had gone enough rounds that they all agreed to call it a draw and return to bed.

The toy had had a good soaking as well. Leliana slid it back into its leather base and began doing up the ties that would hold it on, while Zevran and Kallian kissed and petted each other next to her. She watched contentedly for a while, working two fingers under the harness to touch herself, for the two elves were beautiful. But at length, she cleared her throat. “Shall we get started? This will take some time, I think.”

“Mmm.” Zevran rolled partly over to look at her, eyes lingering on the thick obsidian shaft. “That it will.” He turned back to Kallian. “Ready for me, my dear?”

“ _Been_ ready, you... ah! Mm yeah, now... Hey. Zev. You’re not moving.”

“No, I must be still for Leliana. She can hardly be careful if I am thrusting and plunging all over the place, yes?” He nibbled at the side of her neck. “You, on the other hand, may wriggle as much as you can. Which, if I am not mistaken, is not very much.”

“Is this gonna be your new thing? Because I do-oh- _oh_ -on’t think I waaant this to be your new thing-ng-ng-ng _damn it_ I shoulda got the smaller one...”

He kept the Warden squealing and mewling while she worked one, and then two, and then, finally, three oiled fingers into him. He did hold remarkably still, although a few deep-throated moans encouraged her that things were going well. Then, withdrawing her hand, she guided the _diletto_ to its goal.

She went slowly, as Kallian had, particularly as she worked the flared head into him. It was almost hypnotic, watching the slick, shining black-green glass slide bit by bit deeper, framed by fine golden skin. He gasped and moaned beneath her, his teasing kisses for Kallian becoming harder and more passionate, which sent the Warden into a further frenzy.

A final push and the toy was fully seated. She leaned forward onto Zevran’s back and flicked the tip of his ear with her tongue. “Now,” she said softly, “how did the story go after this? I think there was some more teasing, before - “

“No! No, if you are ready to go, there is _fucking_ now or I _swear_ I’m gonna start biting and not the fun kind!”

“See, this is why I could not train you as a bard, _amie_ ,” Leliana sighed. She pulled back, about half the length of the toy, and stopped. “You have heard your lady, Zevran. Get to work!”

He did, slowly at first, still adjusting to the _diletto_. This satisfied Kallian briefly, but she was quite soon calling for _harder_ and _faster_. By turns he was able to oblige, throwing himself back onto Leliana before diving again into Kallian. Each woman began to meet him with a small forward thrust of her own, until it felt to Leliana as if they were knocking him back and forth between them.

Kallian wailed out her climax and Zevran, shouting hoarsely in Antivan, followed moments later. Again, they all three sagged into a contented and tired pile. And again, it was Kallian who recovered first.

“Hey you know, _I_ still haven’t been in the middle...”


End file.
